


A Stark Bride

by AbsinthexMind



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Attraction, F/M, Marriage Proposal, Propositions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2019-07-19
Packaged: 2020-06-03 15:47:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19467136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AbsinthexMind/pseuds/AbsinthexMind
Summary: Tumblr RequestAegon Targaryen reduced your father, Torrhen Stark, to a mere lord. The Targaryen conqueror had taken the title of king for himself. You wanted to depise them, those beautiful Targaryens with their lavender eyes and silver tresses. But they were beautifu. Terrifying and beautiful just like their dragons.





	A Stark Bride

Silver hair. Rich lavender eyes. Dragons as large as the castle of Winterfell. Targaryen invaders. Your family had heard whispers of the Targaryens slowly making their way through the country, claiming everything as their’s. And now they had made it to the north. They had made your father, Torrhen Stark, bend the knee; surrendering his title as King in the North. A title that had been in your family for generations. Indignation rose in you but what could you do? You may have had direwolves but they were nothing compared to three dragons. To stay alive and ensure the Stark legacy went on, he had to agree to the terms. At least Aegon had still let him keep the north in his domain, naming him Warden. It was better than nothing. Well, that’s what your father tried to convince you; but even his words were laced with wounded pride at having to hand over the north to a foreign ruler.  


The Targrayens, Aegon and his equally beautiful sister-wives, decided to stay to take in the splendor of the north; their newly conquered kingdom. Everyone was on edge at their stay, even more so with their ferocious dragons lurking above. You would admit though that they were beautiful creatures. Something you never thought you’d see in your entire life. Your own direwolf, Cerelia, was massive. 

She was taller than you by two heads and was nearly as tall as Aegon himself. Their dragons were different though.  


Beautiful and terrifying, just like their riders.  


After Aegon announced that he and his sisters would be staying for a little while longer you kept to yourself and stayed mostly inside of your chambers or in the godswood. Cerelia being your constant companion. But you knew your direwolf needed her exercise and to stretch her massive limbs. It wasn’t fair to keep her locked up with you just because you didn’t want to see the faces of the people who stripped your father of his title.  


Having made up your mind, you and Cerelia leave the castle and make your way out through the gates. Immediately Cerelia takes off in a run. You grin and follow suit. The two of you weaved between trees in a dizzying manner, the cold air burning in your lungs but how you loved the sensation. Mid-run you pounce onto Cerelia’s back; once she’s feels you seated she runs faster through the woods. You release a carefree laugh, feeling so giddy. It had been a while since you had last felt like that.  


A screech from up above made Cerelia halt in her tracks, her bright yellow eyes lifting up. The earth trembled slightly as the screech became louder, closer. The Black Dread known as Balerion parts the trees to make his entrance. Cerelia steps back, hackles raised and the skin on her snout curling in a snarl. In an attempt to soothe her you run your hand over her night black fur. Ground shaking as Balerion finally landed you have to crane your neck all the way up to see his rider. Aegon.  


“Fancy seeing you here Lady Stark.” He shouts from atop his dragon. Balerion lowers himself even more to allow Aegon to get off. His giant wings had caused the bordering trees around him to crack and bend, ultimately breaking them. Enormous trees that had been there since the First Men and the Children of the Forest. You feel your cheeks flare again with anger. This foreign king didn’t care about your land. Even less about the history.  


Bristling a bit, you keep your tone cordial and cold. “I could say the same for you. Taking a gander of what you have won?”  


His smile is light and you catch the shine of his eyes the closer he gets to you. “The north is truly a beautiful place. A bit too chilly for my comfort though.”  


“You get used to it.” Recalling your manners, you get off of Cerelia. As you do so Balerion shifts and moves until his snout is mere feet from you. You panic and jump back a bit. To your surprise Cerelia doesn’t seem as concerned about the dragon being so close to you. Instead she swiftly goes in front of you and gives Balerion’s snout a sniff. She looks back to you as if telling you that you shouldn’t be such a chicken.  


“It’s alright.” comforts Aegon. “He won’t hurt you.”  


Hesitantly you ask him skeptically “You sure about that?”  


“Not entirely. But your direwolf seems to be sure.” He points out as Cerelia now abandons you to go sniff Aegon. He chuckles as her wet nose prods at his neck and moves up to his forehead, giving his silver hair a lick and making it stand up. Balerion, seemingly wanting to get familiar with you as Cerelia was doing with Aegon, goes over to your frozen form as you stare at him with wide eyes. His whole entire head was simply enormous. Red eyes peer into you as he inhales and breathes out hot air into your face. With the confidence that only a huge creature such as himself could possess, he bumps his snout gently against your forehead. His scales are hot but not unpleasant.  


Gingerly you take your glove off and stretch it out to press your fingertips experimentally underneath his chin. Unblinking red eyes close, content with your touch.  


“He likes you.” Aegon pipes up finally, having been silent during the whole interaction. “He would never have let anyone else touch him.”  


“I suppose I should be lucky then.”  


“Lucky indeed.” When you turn your attention back to Aegon you find him smiling so gently at you that it makes your cheeks burn in an entirely different way.  


You take note that his sisters are nowhere to be find. “Where are your sister? I never see one without the other.”  


Absentmindedly, he waves his hand in the air. “They’re exploring as well. We all need our personal space. Now tell me, Lady Stark, enlighten me about the north.”  


You raise an eyebrow, surprised at his request. He offers his arm to you and as if on cue, Balerion lifts back up into the sky. You shoot Cerelia a timid look. To reassure you, she slowly blinks her eyes.  


Taking Aegon’s arm, you lead him through the forest. Telling him all about the north’s history. All that had been bred into you. All that you and your family were. 

  
  
  
*  
  
  


Compared to her sister, Rhaenys was much more mild-mannered. An easy-going personality that was hard not to like. Rhaenys had already managed to win a few hearts of the north when she wasn’t on Meraxes. It made the northern lords feel better about her brother conquering them. Everyone saw now why there was a reason that there were rumors of her being Aegon’s favorite. Not that she would ever admit it. She didn’t want Visenya to feel bad.  


She felt something sour in her though when Aegon returned to Winterfell with the Stark daughter hanging off of his arm.  


Of course she shared him with Visenya. That was the only exception. Seeing him with another woman, a conquered woman, well, Rhaenys didn’t like the sight of it one bit. Anyone that wasn’t Targaryen was beneath Aegon. To see the Stark girl with him wasn’t right. They didn’t go together.  


Visenya followed Rhaenys’ jealous gaze. “The nerve of her.”  


“Aegon doesn’t seem to be opposing.” Rhaenys notes with a dry mouth.  


Folding her arms, she continues to watch the two with her sister. “I never took you for the jealous type.”  


“You’re different.” she murmurs. “Aren’t you upset?”  


“Of course I am. I would like nothing more than to feed that slip of a girl to Vhagar.” Visenya replies easily. “Tensions in the North are already high though. Aegon wouldn’t like it much if we were to make things worse.”  


“They couldn’t possibly do anything to protest. We have three dragons. They know what would happen if they were to argue against us.”  


Visenya arches a silver brow. “You seriously want to hurt her. Well well. This certainly is a new transgression.”  


Her younger sister shrugs. “This has never been an issue before. Aegon has always been our’s. There is no room for anyone else.”  


“It’s not uncommon for kings and lords to have mistresses though. It means nothing to them. Just another notch on their bed. Another conquered thing. Don’t let it get to you sweet Rhaenys. She means nothing to him. We are the wives. We are his sisters.”  


Unlike Visenya, Rhaenys was ever observant in body language. She saw the way Aegon leaned in toward the Stark girl. How his smile was too warm and his grasp on her more than cordial. He was attracted to her. He wanted her intimately. Not just as a mistress. He wants her as a wife. As a permanent staple in his life.  
  
*  
  
  


You glare, partly blaming Cerelia for the time you had spent with Aegon. In that time your cold heart had thawed toward the conqueror. You found him more agreeable and were able to see the humanity in him. He would tilt his head skyward and smile at Balerion. Affection. He would touch the bark of the weirwood tree you had taken him to. Appreciation. He would gently run his thumb along the back of your hand. Want.  


Blushing, you throw down Cerelia’s brush onto the straw strewn floor of the horse stables. She looks over to you. Faux confusion as you could already sense the smugness radiating off of her. “Why couldn’t you have growled at him like you do any other man that comes near me?” Moaning you sit your but down on the dirty ground, the sound of horses whinnying and the pounding of the blacksmith was soothing to your ears as you lean your head back. “Why couldn’t his dragon just eaten me.”  


More importantly was the question of why you had felt your stomach flutter with energy when he would train those lovely lilac eyes toward you.  


“Damn him.”  


Cerelia walks away from you, large plume of a tail bouncing with each step out of the stables. You lean your head against your knees. Nothing good could come of this new found infatuation.  


“What’s the matter, Little Wolf?”  


Head jolting up you meet the beautiful face of Rhaenys, Aegon’s youngest sister-wife. Her long silver-blonde hair spilling over her shoulders as she leans into the stable you’re in. Her breasts heaved up by her arms as they rest on the stable’s door. Rhaenys’ face was a lot softer than her sister Visenya’s.  


“N-Nothing.” You stand and with difficulty you add “Your Grace.”  


“That must have been so hard for you to say.” She muses out loud.  


“Pardon?”  


“Well, you used to be princess here. Before we took over. You must have been used to others calling you ‘Your Grace’. Not the other way around.” Rhaenys says nonchalantly. “It must be hard to have been downgraded to ‘lady’.”  


There was something you didn’t like about what she said. You knew it to be true, but the way she said it had a taunting tone to it. Like she was holding the fact over your head. You have to fight every instinct not to talk back. Never had anyone spoken to you like that.  


You stood up as she opened the door to the stall you were in. Rhaenys was not much taller than you yet she still held authority as she sauntered toward you. The sound of her boots crunching the straw underneath makes you inwardly wince.  


Her lips curl downwards. “It’ll take some time for you to learn your place.” The glint of a dagger draws your attention to her hand. “But don’t worry. I can help.” Slowly she lifts up her arm that’s wielding the dagger. Valyrian steel.  


“Remember this Little Wolf, Aegon is far above you. He is your king now. Keep your distance.” In a blink of an eye, Rhaenys struck at your face. You hiss at the burn of the blade, the bite as it sliced open your cheek. She goes to strike again but is knocked down to the ground by Cerelia. Rhaenys’ arm is held tightly in Cerelia’s jaw as the Targaryen cries out for help.  


“LET GO!!” She screams. You hear the shriek of a dragon off in the distance. Meraxes.  


Your heart pounds violently in your chest. “Cerelia! Down!”  


Cerelia contemplates for a moment, glaring down at Rhaenys before releasing her and padding over to you, giving off a menacing growl when Rhaenys scrambles to her feet and bolts out.  


“Gods. . .” Fearfully you look at Cerelia. What would happen to her now that she’s harmed a Queen of Westeros? She licks at your bleeding cheek, trying to comfort your worries.  
  
  
  


“Your direwolf harmed my wife. Your queen.”  


“I want it dead.” Rhaenys says to her husband. “Look at what that beast did to me!” Sure enough as she rolled up her sleeve there were terrible teeth marks on her otherwise creamy skin. They would scar.  


“You can’t let this impudence go by without a consequence.” Visenya adds.  


Your father is right beside you, hand on your shoulder as you tremble. Cerelia is on your otherside, undisturbed by the fact that she might be executed. The black direwolf merely flicks her ears and snorts.  


Torrhen speaks up. “I’m sure there’s an explanation for this Your Grace. Please. Cerelia must’ve been protecting (y/n), as she has always done. Maybe she mistook your wife as a potential threat.”  


Visenya laughed with indignation. “Now he calls one of your queens a threat? How much more do you intend to offend us?”  


“That’s enough.” Aegon tells his sisters, making them finally fall silent. Finally he turns his attention to you. “Explain yourself, Lady Stark.”  


You can’t help it as tears spill onto your cheeks. The thought of them killing Cerelia just for protecting you. . . It was too much to bare. “Please Your Grace.” You fall to your knees and bow your head. 

“Please spare her. Do what you will with me, but not Cerelia. She is the other part of me. Please do not hurt her. I will take full responsibility for what she has done. Just please don’t kill her.”  


There’s a pause for silence before Aegon gives out his sentencing. “There is only one way to mend this wrong.”  


You choked out a sob. He was going to have her killed.  


“Rise (y/n) Stark.”  


Your father has to help you up as your legs could no longer support you. So many memories with Cerelia flashed before your eyes. The day you found her. Nights when she was still a small pup and would curl against you as you slept. When you first realized that the two of you had a spiritual bond that you couldn’t quite explain.  


Your Cerelia.  


“You will make up the damage your direwolf has caused by becoming my wife. If you accept that term, then I will spare Cerelia’s life.”  


“Aegon!” Rhaenys exclaims, throwing aside her chair in fury.  


Even Visenya stands at this injustice. “You can’t possibly mean it!!”  


You exchange a teary-eyed look of utter confusion with your father.  


“I’m. . . I’m sorry Your Grace?” Torrhen stares at Aegon making the king smile.  


“Yes. I wish to make your daughter my bride. My third wife. In exchange for the life of her direwolf.”  


Well, you hadn’t exactly been expecting that. But you would take it. If it was to save Cerelia, you would become (y/n) Targaryen.  


Wiping your face with the heel of your hands, you take a deep breath. “Okay. I accept your proposal.”  


“Okay.” Aegon’s smile warms and you can’t help but feel that flutter once again in the depths of your tummy.


End file.
